These Eleven Months
by BraellyraLeatherleaf
Summary: Oneshot. It's October 6th, and Frodo makes a decision to tell Sam of his plans to leave for Valinor. No Slash. PG for angst and hobbit suffering.


"These Eleven Months"

Disclaimer: Tolkien created everything. I own nothing.

A/N: To some people some of this may sound like SLASH. I assure you that it is NOT, it is brotherly love, plain and simple. I believe you can truly love someone without it having to be in a romantic way.

October 6, S.R. 1420

The sun was shining brightly through the window of my bedroom in Bag End, spreading its golden arms through the gaps in the curtains and dancing across the bed on which I lay. Slowly I tried to turn towards the light, yearning for some warmth contrary to the piercing cold that seemed to have imbedded itself within me.

The cold. It was something I had felt many times before, yet I never could prepare myself for it whenever it came. It was a cold that radiated from my shoulder and crawled throughout my body, chilling my skin yet freezing my soul. I shivered. There was nothing to do but wait for it to pass, though I knew it was easier said than done.

I buried myself under the blankets to try and warm myself. A few more minutes passed, until I could feel the wound reawakening. My face twisted into a painful grimace as waves of agony assailed my body. I groaned, and rolled onto my side, curling into a ball and squeezing my eyes shut tightly against the pain.

Rushes of heat overtook me, and then cooled, leaving me chill and shivering, both hot and cold at the same time. My vision had clouded, and when I tried to open my eyes, only blurred images appeared. The pain radiating from my shoulder seemed to cover my entire body, and I writhed and shrieked in anguish. With the pain came only memories; tormenting memories I had tried so hard to forget came rushing back. A fallen tower, ghastlyfigures in black, a cool object on my finger, followed by a steel blade, and then blackness, and the days that followed of torture and corruption.

Through my delirium I heard a voice, calling my name, calling me to it.

"Frodo! Mr. Frodo! I'm here, your Sam is here, it'll be alright, it's over now, they're gone!"

I tried to fight the blackness, the tormenting images and maddening pain. Tried to come back to the light, to follow that comforting voice.

"Sam…"

I felt arms around me, though not like the ones that ensnared me in my nightmares. No. These arms offered comfort, solace, peace. They held me close, shielding me from the evil that invaded my mind. I felt a hand on my forehead, wiping back stray curls and then moving to take my hand. I tried to recall the face that these arms and voice belonged to, searched far into the corners of my mind but found no answer, only more terrifying darkness. I needed no answer, I knew that this someone, this light, was friend, and was there to help me.

Another spasm of pain radiated through my body, and I let out a scream of sheer anguish. I burrowed closer into the arms that held me, and they tightened their hold. I felt them, but even more I felt the sweltering fire that surged through me, scalding my flesh and parching my tongue and choking my lungs. I gasped for breath, and cried for water, wishing only for something to bring me reprieve.

I felt something cool pressed to my lips, and I opened my mouth, welcoming the refreshing liquid greatly as someone slowly and mercifully helped me quench my thirst. It only brought temporary and small relief, for the darkness and sheer agony returned instantly, fighting me even more fiercely than before. Yet I was glad, for I knew there was someone, a soft touch and a strong hand, looking out for me, prepared to assist me should I happen to cry out for anything more. But for now, for now all I could think of was the pain and the fear.

The heat was excruciating. It was all I could do to keep from tearing off the cloth that confined me. Yet there was no need, there was another who removed the choking fabric from my skin, enabling me to breathe slightly easier. I lay, panting, for who knows how much longer, still lost in dark dreams and terrible agony, often still crying out, begging for mercy or aide in my dark hour.

There was something missing, I knew it. My mind kept telling me that I was forgetting something, something important, yet I couldn't remember what. I raked my mind for anything, anything at all that could lead me to an answer, and though my mind did not tell me, my past did. With a sudden surge of remembrance, I began to panic, realizing what important object was misplaced. Immediately my hands flew to my neck, furiously seeking what I knew was not there. No! No it had to be there! I screamed in anguish and fury, and clawed at my throat and upper chest, my nails were digging into my skin and drawing blood, but I didn't care, I had to find it!

But then, strong but gentle hands grasped my own and pulled them away, even as I continued to struggle against their firm hold. I struggled longer, putting all my strength into fighting that opposing force, trying to break free.

I felt myself being laid down onto cool sheets. I was covered, and I sank into the soft surface beneath me. With one last effort, I tried to escape from my restraint, but again failed, and sank back in exhaustion, having lost all strength.

"There, Mr. Frodo, you'll be alright. You just rest easy now, and let your Sam care for you."

That voice again. Who did it belong to? I knew the name, _Sam_, yet I couldn't remember just who that was. I was too spent to even think now, and let myself fall into sleep as the pain and shadows finally began to lessen.

I awoke to a cool cloth being tenderly dabbed onto my neck and the top of my chest. It was causing a stinging sensation, though I didn't know why, and instinctively I tried to move away from the source of the pain. Soothing words reached my ears, consoling me, comforting me, calming me. I relaxed my tensed muscles and listened to the reassuring sound, allowing it to lull me into stillness.

I sighed contentedly, allowing myself to sink further into the soft pillows. I laid still for a while, feeling the touch of cloth on skin and a gentle caress pushing back sweat-soaked curls from my forehead. I remembered then. It came back to me in a rush of memories that sleep had temporarily removed from my mind. The sting on my neck, of course! The Ring…it was so heavy…every day imbedding itself deeper and deeper into my skin. I reached up to grasp it, but found my hand caught within another.

"No, Mr. Frodo. It's gone, remember? You're safe here in Bag End now, the Ring is gone, and so is He. They won't touch you again, you're free now."

My mind cleared then, allowing me to see the truth. There were no false lies hidden amongst this new remembrance. Slowly I forced myself to fully awaken, and finally I opened my eyes to find a worn and tired face looking down at me with poorly hidden worry and openly expressed comfort. The room was veiled in darkness, with only a small candle to light the small portion of the room that I laid in.

"Hello, Sam," I said, trying to smile reassuringly. I was surprised at how weak and quiet my voice sounded. "What is the time?"

"Nigh on midnight, I assume," he said. He too sounded tired, as much as he tried to hide it with his cheerfulness.

"Midnight? Sam, how long have you been sitting here?"

He looked down and muttered, "Around just after second breakfast, I think. Rosie's come in a few times, she worries about you too, you know."

I stared at him in slight disbelief, though I knew I should have expected it; this was Sam, after all. I suddenly felt guilty, all day he'd been sitting here, offering comfort to me when I was scarcely aware of his presence.

"Sam, you shouldn't have, really, there's nothing you can do…"

He looked away, slightly embarrassed. "I know, Mr. Frodo. Maybe I can't help you as much as I'd like, but I can help myself some by makin' sure you're not in real trouble. I know you're not, but you can't expect me to go about doin' other things with you in here in so much pain, and I reckon I can keep you from tearin' yourself apart, beggin' your pardon."

It was then that I remembered the scratches on my neck. I couldn't see them, of course, not without a mirror, but I could feel them. "Sam, did I …?"

He nodded. "I heard you Mr. Frodo, you were tryin' to find…"

"The Ring, Sam, I know. It's alright." I paused a moment. "How bad is it?" I asked, once again feeling my neck and chest.

"Not too bad sir," He answered. "Just some small scratches. Though, I reckon if you didn't do such a nice job of chewin' off your nails they might be worse." I returned his small smile, though only half-heartedly.

I closed my eyes a moment, and then, opening them again, I asked, "What day is this?"

"Well," He said, "It's past midnight now, so it'd be the seventh. So yesterday was the sixth. Of October, that is."

I sighed, "Of course."

Sam must have sensed my feelings behind those words, for he patted my hand. "It's passed now Mr. Frodo. You needn't worry anymore."

I shook my head. "No, Sam. It has passed for now, but it will return next year, and in the spring also I will be forced to endure more of this, though somewhat differently. I will never be rid of it."

I don't know if Sam knew exactly of what I spoke. Maybe he thought I was speaking of the wounds, or perhaps he did realize that it was, in fact, the Ring I would never be completely rid of. Sometimes, as I sat writing in the Red Book, I longed to hold it again, to feel its cold surface upon my skin. No, unless he knew what I meant, I wouldn't tell him. This was one of the few things I needed to keep from him, he could never know.

I hated myself for what I couldn't tell him, yet I knew all the greater how much it would hurt him if he knew. He gave so much for me, and that was how I would repay him? No. The wounds I still suffered from were deep, but the love my Sam kept for me was deeper. It was the only thing that drove back the darkness, and I could not return his love with corruption.

Yet, I realized now that I had never told him that I too held that same love for him, though I am sure he knew it. He had told me once, I remember, though I do not believe he knew I could hear him. It had been after I arrived in Rivendell, as I lay in dark dreams similar to the ones I had just experienced. I knew before Gandalf had told me that Sam had hardly left my side. I couldn't have told him, but always I felt his presence, and it was what I held on to. I remember, in my darkest hour, when there was scarcely any hope I would recover, Sam had sat there, next to me on the large bed and held my hands. I remember feeling his tears and hearing his words, broken with sobs yet powerful all the same. _"Hold on Mr. Frodo. Don't leave me; don't go where I can't follow. Stay with your Sam. I love you, and I don't want to lose you." _It was those words that I had clung to, that pulled me from the shadows and back into the light. Those words that I had never returned.

Though, they would be returned. My time in the Shire was coming to a close, for soon it would be the time that I would depart into the west. One more year I would stay, then come next September I would finally bid farewell to the only place I had ever called home. I looked up at Sam, and knew that he needed to know. I would cast aside my original plan of not revealing it to him until the time came, I would tell him now, so we can enjoy my last year in the Shire together, relishing in every moment.

"I love you, Sam, my dearest and closest friend," I meant those words with everything that was within me. Sam _was _the closest person in the world to me. He _was _my dearest friend, like the brother I never had. He had given so much for my well-being. In my darkest hour, at my most insane moment, he never once left my side. Dear Sam. Once I had tried to leave him, and I shudder to think what may have happened if my faithful Sam hadn't followed me.

Sam looked down at me, all I felt reflected in his eyes. Pain, sorrow, loss, anguish, friendship, understanding, love; all those things. He pressed my hand, or perhaps I pressed his, and he told me that my gift was returned, "I love you too, Mr. Frodo," he said.

"I know."

I smiled, so glad to be granted with such a wonderful friend, so blessed that he was with me now, at one of the times I needed him most; then again, he always had been. I closed my eyes a moment, and when I opened them I saw that he was still sitting next to me, a reassuring yet still concerned smile playing across his lips. I smiled back, only slightly, as a gesture that I was all right, and tried to find the best way to tell him what I knew would surely break his heart, however stout it may be.

"Samwise…" I said, my voice barely above a whisper, and he leaned closer to better hear my words. He had done this before, many times in Mordor, when my throat, so parched from lack of water could scarcely manage anything but a hoarse rasp. I quickly pushed this thought aside. "Sam," I started again, "How long has it been since we…since we returned?"

He seemed to think a moment, to count the days in his head perhaps, before he spoke, "About eleven months, Mr. Frodo."

I sighed, and again closed my eyes. "Mr. Frodo?" He inquired, sensing, as always, my distress.

I shook my head. "Eleven months, Sam. Only eleven months since we were free to live our lives again. Eleven months, Sam, and you have come back. You have lived the life a hobbit should. You have married Rosie, and you live a truly wonderful life. The trees you have planted are growing strong under your care, and soon the Shire will be back to the way it should be, or perhaps even greater. For you these eleven months have been joyful and prosperous and all the things they should be. But for me, for me these eleven months have been a torment that is almost equal to what we faced on the Quest. Enduring it once was devastating, but the aftermath, having to live with the memory of what happened, having to relive that day after day is worse. So much worse, Sam."

I could see then that I'd alarmed him, which I hadn't meant to do, and I clasped his hand more tightly to comfort him. The tears had started again, for both of us, but I did not hesitate, I knew that if I stopped now I would not be able to bring myself to tell him again, so I continued.

"Those last days in Mordor were the most difficult, on both of us, I know. I was conscious of my surroundings very little; I remember little of them save the pain, the thirst, the anguish and the hopelessness and even the insanity I felt. But what I do remember is that I found myself too weak to go on, and you, somehow you carried me up that cursed mountain. I do not know whether it was by chance or design that you managed to stay with me, but I do know I was, and am, very glad of it.

"But in the end, dear Samwise, in the end I was unable to finish it. I knew all along I wouldn't be able to, for even before we left Rivendell I could feel It's power, already slowly eating away at my soul. But in the end, in our last conscious moments, when we thought the only escape from that horrid land was death, it was you that was beside me, you that told me everything was going to be all right. And I was glad, because I knew it would be, because it was over, and you were with me, and I was prepared to depart.

"However, we did not depart from this world. By some incredible chance we were rescued from that loathsome place, and when we awoke, everything truly _was_ all right. For you, for Merry and Pippin, for Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli and Gandalf and all of Middle-Earth. Except me. I was not sure then, Sam, exactly what had happened to me. I don't think anyone did, perhaps save the Elves and maybe Gandalf. But over these eleven months I have come to realize many things. When Gandalf saved us from Mordor, he brought back you, and he brought back my body, but he failed to return my spirit. No, Sam, the Frodo you once knew is gone. He died on Mount Doom with the Ring. All that is left now is a shadow. A shadow with nothing left but the past and time to grieve over what was lost to him. A mere shadow, and nothing more."

Tears were falling freely from Sam's eyes, and I could see the pain written on his face. He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the terrible thoughts within it.

"No, no, Mr. Frodo, don't you say such things! It's not true, please, don't say that, don't fool yourself! You're confused, y-you just need to rest, and then, then it will be alright, you'll see."

I knew as well as he did that he was only saying that to avoid the truth, and he knew as well as I did that all I was saying was sincere. It nearly tore my heart apart to see him like this; lying to himself, hoping it was all just a dream and he would wake up any minute and it would be over, just as long as he kept saying that. I used to tell myself the same thing. That it was a dream, a nightmare and nothing more. I know the truth now.

He was trembling by then, and I sat up and pulled him into a tight embrace, as he had done for me so many times before.

"Please, Samwise," I said. "You must understand. During those days in Mordor, I never expected to return, I never expected to live, and much less I never expected we would accomplish what we set out to do. My hope had died as soon as we left the Tower, and after that the only thing keeping me going was you. I let go, Sam. I let go of everything, and I wish I hadn't, for it is too much to bear, and there is only one place for me now."

He pulled away to study my gaze, trying to figure out what I referred to. I lifted a hand and fingered the pendant around my neck. "Do you know what this is Sam?"

"Aye," He said, "That's the jewel Lady Arwen gave you."

I nodded. "Yes, Sam, but with it, she gave me her place in Valinor. She bid me to go in her stead, lest I would seek healing." I looked deeply into his eyes, and tried to make him understand. My own eyes pleaded and comforted and were sincere all at once. "It is now what I need most," I said. "It is the one place I can be healed in, Sam. I will take one of the Grey Ships across the Sea, and there I shall finally be whole again."

He shook his head, "No, Mr. Frodo, you can't leave me! Don't try to go where I can't follow again…please."

I pulled him into another strong embrace, trying to comfort him the best I could. As sobs racked his frame and tears of sadness and remorse flowed down my cheeks, I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Immediately I pushed that idea from my mind. I knew that this choice was one I must make, and the decision I had made, though it would surely break my heart, would help me become who I had once been. To me, it had sounded selfish at first, but when I had spoken the thought aloud to Gandalf, he had said, _"Was it selfishness that influenced you to take on the burden of the Ring? Or because of selfishness that you carried It to the one place it could be destroyed? Is it because of selfishness that a great evil has been destroyed? The wounds you carry are because of these things, and can you, or anyone else, call any of them selfish?" _I had smiled then, for Gandalf was right, as always, and it was shortly afterwards that I had made my decision.

I pulled myself from my thoughts and tried to pull myself together. "Forgive me, Sam," I said, "Please forgive me, for I am sorry I must leave you. Though, I will not leave until my next birthday, and let us spend my final days in the Shire as if they were the last for both of us. Forgive me."

He shook his head. "No, Mr. Frodo. There's naught for you to be sorry about. It's me that should be sorry."

I laughed softly, weakly. "I cannot find anything to forgive you for either Sam. I wouldn't be here without you."

He let it go there, he knew me well enough to know when a matter was settled. I gently wiped the tears from his face.

"Do not weep for me Samwise," I said. "Though it pains me greatly to leave you, I will no longer have to feel the pain of what has passed. I know it hurts you to let me go, but one day Samwise, one day you will follow me, and we will see each together again, whether in this life or the next, I promise. For now though, your duty is to stay here in the Shire, for many years to come."

He smiled, and I knew it was genuine. From the behind the closed doorway, coming from the parlor came the sound of one clock chime, reminding us both of how late the hour was. I yawned, and soon after a similar reaction emitted from Sam.

We both laughed quietly. "Well, Sam, I believe it's time we both got some rest. It really is quite late."

He nodded. "I think you're r-r-right, Mr. Frodo." He said, again yawning. "Are you sure you're all right? Is there anything you need?"

I shook my head. "No Sam, I am fine now, it has passed."

I lay back on the mattress, and he tucked the blankets securely around me, as if I were a small child. Again I remembered Mordor, and similar ministrations. And then I realized, that maybe those days in the Black Land _had _amounted to something good. They had strengthened the bond between myself and Sam, brought us closer than we had ever been, and built a relationship that made both of us realize the love we shared, the love that could only be equaled by the love of brothers. Though Sam was younger than I, in my darkest hour it was he who stood by me and chased the darkness away, and it was he that I turned to for comfort and protection. It was he that had saved Middle-Earth, not I, and he that guarded me against all that tried to harm me. He was my light in dark places and times. Without him, all would have been lost long ago.

"Good Night, Sam," I said before turning the other direction and closing my eyes.

"Good night, Mr. Frodo," I heard him walk to the door and open it, but before he closed it I lifted my head and looked at him.

"Sam?"

He paused and turned around. "Yes, Mr. Frodo?"

I laid my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes. "Thank you," I said, and then fell into a peaceful sleep.

End

A/N: This is my first fic, so I'd LOVE some feedback! Also, I'm not too crazy about the title, so if anyone has better suggestions please let me know!


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